


Little Talks

by kittleimp



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chapter 3: Clemens Point (Red Dead Redemption 2), Facial Shaving, Fix-It, Gen, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:42:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25491805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittleimp/pseuds/kittleimp
Summary: What if Arthur got Dutch to listen? What if Dutch heard what he needed to hear? This could have ended before anyone else got hurt.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan & Dutch van der Linde
Comments: 6
Kudos: 58





	Little Talks

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt from trans-mtrans-minecraft-stray on tumblr that reddeadchesha wasn't feeling up to writing.
> 
> Geography referenced is based on my version of the RDRverse map, seen [here](https://kittleimp.tumblr.com/post/624548951522213888/firststranding-ever-wondered-how-the-rdr-world).
> 
> This is not meant to be read as romantic, but I can't stop you.

Micah's got the good goddamn sense god gave a skunk, but at least he's smart enough to stay away after his brilliant plan to reconcile with Colm left Arthur half dead. Other than that rat, the whole camp comes by to visit while he recovers. Even Pearson, guilty as he feels for bringing the whole thing up in the first place.

Dutch's visits are frequent, but short. Usually while someone else is there. It seems he likes to have a buffer, a third person between them so they can't have a one-on-one conversation. Arthur's almost healed enough to be moving around again and he hasn't had a chance to talk with Dutch alone yet.

His opportunity comes when Dutch drops by while Charles is paying a morning visit, just after they've finished eating the small breakfast Sadie brought in. Arthur's upright now, sitting on the edge of his cot, and his arm's held in place by a sling so he doesn't reopen the healing wound.

One of the many things Arthur likes about Charles is that he's quick to pick up on unspoken cues. All it takes is one look and Charles rises from the chair someone dragged into the tent weeks ago. He claps Dutch on the shoulder as he passes toward the entrance.

"I'll leave him to you, Dutch," he says casually, and lets the tent's flap fall closed behind him when he leaves. Arthur never had to say a word.

Dutch, now caught off guard and trapped by social convention if nothing else, hesitates briefly. Arthur jumps on the chance.

"Sorry to ask, Dutch, but… do you think you could help me shave?" he asks sheepishly, scratching at his scraggly beard with his free hand. "Can't do it so well with one hand, and this beard ain't comfortable with all the heat."

There's another moment of hesitation before Dutch gives him a small smile.

"Sure, son," he relents. This time when he ducks out of the tent, he returns a few seconds later with the shaving supplies Arthur keeps nearby.

They sit in silence while Dutch spreads shaving cream over his face. It's an intimate gesture Arthur remembers from past injuries and illnesses, back when things weren't so… well.

"Been wanting to talk to you," Arthur admits. Dutch's jaw tenses, but his motions remain gentle.

"What about?" he asks nonchalantly.

"About all of this, Dutch. We've got Pinkertons on our tail, Colm looking to sell us out, and we're dabbling in some town that ain't half as stupid as we're treating them. What are we doing?" He looks up at Dutch, but finds only hard, determined eyes.

"We are surviving, Arthur," Dutch says firmly, with a clear tone of disappointment. "If we can score one more big hit here, we can-"

"Dutch, please," Arthur interrupts, practically begging. "I ain't trying to criticize you. You know I believe in you, I always have, this ain't about that."

"Then what is it about?" And there's that tone. Slow, careful, and cold. Dangerous. It sends pinpricks down Arthur's spine. Dutch has set the brush down and he's gently unfolding Arthur's carefully sharpened razor.

"I'm worried about you, Dutch," Arthur admits.

Dutch snorts. "Worried about how I'm… crazy? Is that it, Arthur? You think I've gone off the deep end?"

"No, it ain't like that," Arthur sighs.

"Then what?"

His next words matter. Dutch can get up and leave at any moment, and if he leaves now this conversation will break something important between them. He has to choose carefully.

"All of us, we're here because we got faith in you. Especially me. I've followed you for decades, Dutch, and I'll follow you into the new century if you let me… but what about you?" He fixes Dutch with a soft, concerned look. "The things you've always had faith in, this life of freedom... you know as well as I do that things are changing."

Dutch nods and raises the razor to begin. "That's why it's so important that we stick together, my son."

"Dutch, would you just listen to me a moment?" Arthur pleads. "You got a lot to say, you always do, but let me talk. Please."

Dutch pauses and lowers the blade. He looks as surprised as Arthur feels. When's the last time he stopped Dutch like that? Talked over him and truly demanded to be heard? Then again, when's the last time Dutch listened?

"Alright, Arthur," he says after a few tense heartbeats. His voice is distant, the way it gets when he's about to send himself into a spiral of self doubt. Arthur has to make this count. He takes a deep breath.

"I still believe in you, Dutch. The longer we do this, the more I feel like it's you that don't know what to believe in these days. Like you lost sight of where we're going. There ain't nothing wrong with needing a bit of help remembering," Arthur explains. Dutch almost interrupts, but to his credit, he closes his mouth again and nods for Arthur to continue.

"We're gonna be okay, Dutch, but not if we keep on the way we have been. You keep talking about one more big score, but that ain't what we need. What we need is to take things slow and go somewhere new. The world's changing."

"And we are fighting that change," Dutch protests, but Arthur shakes his head.

"What we're doing is standing in front of a herd of charging bison and expecting that they'll change course instead of trampling us."

Dutch is silent long enough to take that in, which is a good sign. At least he's listening. Arthur continues before he can lose momentum.

"You're smart, Dutch. Smarter than me. The Pinkertons are on our asses and if they catch us, we're done. They already tried to bribe me. Next time they won't make the mistake of going after the most loyal, they'll go after the one they think they can bend."

Dutch narrows his eyes. "And who is that?"

"My money's on Micah."

"Arthur-"

"No, you listen," Arthur snaps. "You weren't in Strawberry."

"No, I wasn't," Dutch replies coolly. "From what I heard, you made a ruckus getting him out and brought the whole town down on the two of you."

"Is that what he told you?" His voice has dropped, low and angry. "The break out wasn't quiet, no, but we had a head start. Could've gotten out without much bloodshed, if any. Instead Micah shoots the damn O'Driscoll who was in the cell with him and charges off to go find some feller on the other side of town."

"Now what would he do that for?" To his credit, Dutch both looks and sounds bewildered. Finally.

"Apparently he used to run with the man. My guess is that's who he got into a fight with in the first place. The man was begging to be left alone. He'd gotten out of the life, had a family."

"And why'd Micah go bother him?"

"Because he had an old pair of guns that used to be Micah's." He leans in closer, staring right into Dutch's eyes. "That man was someone he was loyal to, Dutch. Micah broke down the door and killed them all, just for a pair of guns."

"I'm sure he had his reasons," Dutch protests, but it's a weak defense.

"And I'm sure he'll have his reasons when he turns on us too," Arthur says. He's trying to be gentle now. Dutch's confidence is shaky as is. "If the Pinkertons offer him his life for ours, he'll take it. I know he will. You raised me to be a good judge of character, didn't you?"

"And what would you have me do?" Dutch asks, sounding as if he hasn't slept in days. He's stripped down to his doubts now and Arthur's heart aches in his chest. He reaches out with his good arm and rests a hand on Dutch's.

"Make him leave," Arthur suggests desperately. "You don't need him, Dutch, and you never have. He talks big, but he's full of shit and you know it. Seeing the best in people don't stop them from being bad. Snakes like him come and go. Your family doesn't."

Dutch hums thoughtfully. He raises his hands again and this time Arthur stays quiet to allow those calloused fingers to carefully shave his beard away. Neither of them speaks until the last of the hair is gone and Arthur is wiping his face with a ratty old hand towel.

"What do you think our plan should be, then? You seem to know what to do, so what now?" Dutch asks.

Arthur studies him, trying to figure out why he sounds so… honest. Questions like that are always sharp, meant to remind Arthur that he isn't the brains here. This time it sounds as if Dutch might actually want to know. Luckily Arthur's had weeks to think it through.

"We send Micah out. Then we go East, to the Lanahechee, and find a boat that'll take us up the Mississippi a ways," Arthur suggests.

Dutch's brows furrow. "We go north?"

"Only past the mountains, maybe up past Indian Territory," Arthur explains, trying to reassure him. "Then we go west again. Oklahoma Territory, New Mexico Territory, Arizona Territory, all of them ain't even states. We can try out there. Texas, even, or Kansas."

"You think it'll really be better there?" Dutch asks skeptically, but Arthur can tell he's starting to come around.

"We could buy some land, Dutch. Play by their rules, just enough that they won't bother us. Then we live the way we want to live, and there ain't a damn person who can tell us not to."

That gleam is back in Dutch's eye. A smile is sneaking out from under his moustache, and Arthur can't help but mirror it.

"You're our leader, Dutch, and I'll follow you into the gates of hell if I have to," he reminds his mentor. "That said, I'd rather follow you to heaven on Earth. If anyone could make that a reality, it's be you."

When Dutch grins, he looks ten years younger.

"Well, my boy, I believe I need to talk to Hosea."

**Author's Note:**

> And then everything was fine because Arthur never had TB in the first place, he actually got pneumonia following the ship wreck, so he's perfectly healthy right now.
> 
> Thank you for reading! You can find me on [twitter](https://kittleimp.tumblr.com>tumblr</a>%20or%20<a%20href=) as kittleimp! I also have a [video game tumblr](https://firststranding.tumblr.con) that is mostly used for reblogs.


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